


Be Still With Me

by InvocationAndToccata



Series: Be Still With Me [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Lessons, M/M, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvocationAndToccata/pseuds/InvocationAndToccata
Summary: John has been waiting for his moment to teach Malcolm the most important lesson in the education of his disciple. He feels the time is right, and for Malcolm to truly accept his calling he needs his old team mates to see it.All the set pieces are prepared and ready to be assembled, and it's only a matter of time before Malcolm will declare himself to be John's forever.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Paul Lazar | John Watkins
Series: Be Still With Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131779
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39





	1. Allegro ma non troppo

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to those on the Trash server who helped to dream up this little scenario, I hope I've done it justice.  
> Big thanks to Tess who helped whip this story into shape and take it to the next level.

John leaned back in the folding chair positioned in the centre of the room, admiring his handiwork. He’d had to spend precious time away from Malcolm to pull all the pieces together, but he knew that this next step was important to Malcolm’s education, and would lead to the inevitable acceptance of his life’s true calling.

John’s new mission was only in its infancy, he had only been teaching Malcolm for five weeks. Thirty-seven days of lessons and discipline. He had to admire Malcolm’s resistance to his godly teachings, and blessed the Lord for giving Malcolm such strength. Malcolm was strong, to be sure, but when John noticed his retorts had lost their bite and the sighs of acceptance grew ever more prevalent, he knew that the time had come to move on to the next phase of his teachings.

A phase that would show Malcolm just how far he’d come. And show his family how much he was now John’s. 

The building had been easy enough to rent with a fake name, and some purchases at Home Depot and Walmart had turned an empty shell of a warehouse into a classroom fit for his disciple.

The rest of the class had been a bit trickier to obtain.

Five weeks had been long enough to see the scaling back of the man hunt against him, at which point his targets had become easier to track and eventually subdue. He’d taken the big one first, a swift knock to the head outside a pool hall and down he went. The woman was next, a feisty little thing he grabbed on her way home from the gym. She knew some decent defensive moves but they were no match for his brute force. The two of them glared at him now with duct-taped mouths, chained to a pipe running across the wall and sitting on the newly installed foam floor. Their arms had nowhere to go thanks to the thick rubber that encased the chains connecting them to the pipe. It was important to his lesson that they make as little noise as possible. On the opposite side of the room lay their boss, one Gil Arroyo, his hands bound in the same way as his precious detectives. 

The Lieutenant had been the last one on his list of students. Breaking into his ancient car was easy for a mechanic like him, and all he had to do was wait in the backseat, wrap his thick arm around the man’s neck and wait for unconsciousness to take him.

Now he just needed the man to wake up.

John mumbled to himself as he watched for signs of life. “Come on, Lieutenant, I have places to be and people to see.” His patience worn out he clomps over to Arroyo and kicks him in the stomach. He’s rewarded for his efforts with a groan from the man in front of him, limbs slowly checking in with their owner as they are dragged back into consciousness.

Arroyo manages to lift his head groggily and scan the room, his eyes widening in horror when he recognises John’s face.

“Watkins?”

“Lieutenant Arroyo, so nice of you to join us. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve borrowed you and your team for a little while, but you see I have a very important lesson for all of you. I shouldn’t take up too much of your time.”

“My team? What do you mean?” Gil squinted in the poor light to try and get his bearings.

“Your detectives, I’ve grabbed them too. Welcome to my classroom!” John exclaims.

“What? No, what are you-“

“You were all so busy searching for your precious little Malcolm that you forgot to protect yourselves. And now you are here to join me in the next step in Malcolm’s education.”

“Malcolm! Is he here?” Gil pushes himself up on his fists to get a better look in the room, and ends up with a backhand for his efforts, crashing back into the foam mat.

John guffaws at his optimism. “Awww, he’s not here yet. I needed to make sure everything was perfect. And now you’re here, we’re so close. Malcolm has a lesson to learn today, and you’ll learn one as well.”

“Whatever you’ve done to him, he’s stronger than you think.” Gil replies. John answers him with a shrug.

“Oh he was strong, but the Malcolm you knew is gone. Only my disciple exists now. And after today he will accept his life by my side. And you will help him do that.”

“Like hell we’ll help you.” Gil’s voice is dripping with venom.

John looks down and grins. “All I need you to do is watch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re missing one more student.” John exits the room and locks the door behind him.

“Not long now, little Malcolm. Soon we’ll be free.”

************************************

The bone chilling cold never really went away, despite the little portable heater plugged in on the opposite side of the room. Malcolm didn’t know if it was all in his head or if it was just that cold where he’d been trapped for god knows how long. There were no blankets in the room, and the thin mat on the floor did nothing to trap the warmth. His current attire of sweat pants and a hoodie courtesy of John’s wardrobe hung on him like an oversized snuggie, and did nothing to keep any meagre warmth trapped against his skin.

He’d been kept in the same empty room in the cabin for weeks, held in place by a thick chain around his waist that was bolted to the wall. His very own tether, just like his father. The handcuffs didn’t get worn all the time, lately as Malcolm grew tired and more agreeable to John’s ministrations, he’d found himself being forced into them less and less.

The chain was cold and made every position Malcolm tried to sit in uncomfortable. John keeps telling him the chain is a reminder of his lack of faith in their mission, a punishment that will cease when he finally agrees to become John’s disciple. It was a load of shite. Malcolm had no idea where he was, but he knew that because he was above ground the danger of being heard by someone was non-existent. Even if he could make it out of the cabin he’d likely have nowhere to run to for help.

The real reason for the chain was that it gave Malcolm nowhere to run when John turned his attention towards his own person. What started as small pats, not unlike how you would treat a pet, soon turned into something more. Malcolm guessed he had been in the cabin two weeks when John first tried to kiss him, that time the handcuffs made it impossible for him to push back. He refused to submit and let John in, and the beatings that followed made sleeping virtually impossible for days after.

Bit by bit he had trained himself not to react as John explored further and longer each time, knowing that resisting him only made it worse for himself. He’d learned now to stand silently when John gave the signal, to close his eyes and start playing Beethoven’s Sixth in his head when he felt the tickle of John’s whiskers against his own overgrown stubble. The strings kept him company when calloused and dry hands slipped below the soft waistband of his ill-fitting sweat pants. The harmonies from the horns helped him float away while greedy hands groped his cock, followed the curve of his ass and teased his rim, and helped to tune out the mumblings John whispered into his ears.

John hadn’t forced himself on Malcolm just yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it happened. And he was so tired these days, so numb from all the talking and the fondling that he didn’t know what he would do when that day came. . His body ached for gentle human contact, but to receive it at the hands of John pulled at the frayed edges of his psyche, as he tried to balance his wants and wishes against those of his captor. 

He’d had some respite in the last few days, when John had walked in with a large water bottle and a few packets of crackers he knew that John wouldn’t be returning for a while. John always made sure that he had enough water, and didn’t force him to eat foods that upset his stomach. Malcolm had to be thankful for that, he figured.

By his best guess of the sunlight entering through the window he’d been alone for about three days, and the crackers and water were all gone. Malcolm watched the window’s outline track slowly across the room; it had made it across four planks of wood since he’d taken his last swig of water.

He was going to need more, and soon.

Malcolm heard the door to the cabin open two floor planks later. He lifted himself up on to the balls of his feet, ready to follow John’s command when he signalled Malcolm to stand. A punch to the head would be his prize if he refused.

He tried to ignore the rolling wave of nausea that seemed to accompany him following John’s instructions, a part of his brain noting that its presence lingers a little bit less every time he obeys. 

The door to his room opened and John stood there for a moment, admiring Malcolm’s submissive form before him. Grinning, he held his palm out flat and raised his fingers up towards the ceiling. Malcolm pushes off the ground and stands to face John, swaying slightly as unused muscles protested the sudden movement. Malcolm meets John’s eyes, waiting for what comes next.

“My little Malcolm! How have we been since I left?”

Malcolm chooses not to answer.

“Alright, you don’t wanna tell me what you got up to, that’s fine. I have a surprise for you, here you go!” John reaches behind him and pulls out a blindfold.

Malcolm narrows his eyes and tilts his head. “And what is that for?”

“It’s for you to wear, dummy. We’re going on a trip!”

Malcolm’s heart starts to beat a little faster.

“Where are we going?”

“Well I can’t tell you that, Malcolm, it would ruin the surprise! Let’s just say that we’re going somewhere that’s important to your education.”

“My education? We’re still talking about this? I’m not following you anywhere.”

The slap is swift and hard.

“Listen here, my little Malcolm. I have worked very hard to set up this lesson and you will be attending. So, you can either put this blindfold on and we’ll take a nice drive together or I will whip you within an inch of your life, and then we’ll take a drive. Your choice.”

There is no choice. Even when his brain is foggy from the slap and exhaustion, he’s seen John’s anger and knows that today, in this moment, he just can’t face another beating. Malcolm sighs and reaches out for the blindfold. John’s grin returns, and he lifts his hand to cup Malcolm’s face and pull him into a chaste kiss.

“That’s my boy.”

John clasps the handcuffs on to his wrists before affixing the blindfold over Malcolm’s eyes. He knows he could take it off at any time, and yet a part of him doesn’t want to think about what would happen if he did. What John would do if he disappointed him.

It’s just easier this way, right? Easier not to disappoint John. Maybe John did know what was best for him, Malcolm couldn’t tell what was best for himself anymore.

There’s a clanking sound behind him as John unlocks the chain from the wall and picks it up. A sudden pressure on the small of his back tells him that John is ready to go, a gentle tug on the chain becomes the signal for Malcolm to start walking out of the cabin. Malcolm shuffles slowly, at John’s complete mercy until they reach a vehicle. The hand on his back gave him a sense of safety as his aching muscles creaked back into use for the first time in weeks. John wouldn’t let him fall.  
“Okay little Malcolm, we’re here. Watch your step, now” John speaks softly as he pushes behind Malcolm’s knee and guides his leg into some sort of vehicle. There’s a bit of awkward manoeuvring as the two men figure out how to get Malcolm seated while he’s blindfolded, but they manage it eventually. The door screeches as it slides shut and the vehicle rocks as John climbs into the driver’s seat

“Alright! Let’s get going. We’re gonna be so much closer by the end of the day, just you wait.”

Malcolm had a feeling he knew what that meant, and he hoped he was wrong. As they start rolling down the road, the beginning of the second movement from Beethoven’s Sixth plays in his head. The andante tempo of the cellos and violas lull his tired mind to sleep, and despite the uncertainty surrounding what was to come Malcolm found himself drifting off into oblivion.

The first movement in this symphony had concluded. Who knew what awaited him in the second.


	2. Chapter 2

Gil has no idea how much time as passed since John left them in this soft little room. In the moments after his exit, Gil implored JT and Dani to stay strong, that they would figure a way out. He used what little light emitted from the bulb above to test the limits of his chains and what he could reach. It didn’t come as a huge surprise that he found nothing.

Whatever plan John had was meticulously thought out and executed.

After his little exploration Gil sat up against the wall and stared at his team. The team he had let down in every way. The room fell into silence, three of NYPD’s finest left to lie in wait for what was to come.

Gil dozed off for a bit before jolting awake, the hot feeling of guilt burning in stomach when he recalled where he was. JT and Dani also had their eyes closed, he figured they must have reached nocturnal hours by now.

It came as a surprise when the lock to the door opened and John walked in with a swagger of a man who’d won the lottery. JT and Dani blinked hard at the sudden interruption, their brains not fully awake just yet.

“Lieutenant, detectives! How are we all?” John inquires. “we’re about to start our lesson very soon, but I wanted to make sure the room was perfect before I bring Malcolm in.”

“Malcolm’s here? Where is he? What have you done to him?” The questions tumble out of Gil’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Awwww, you worry too much Gil. The poor kid is asleep so I’ve left him in my transport while I get things ready. The kid’s exhausted, ya know?” 

“He’s exhausted because of you, you asshole.”

John rolls his eyes at Gil. “He’s exhausted because he won’t listen to my teachings. I think today is the day that changes. So, who’s thirsty?” John heads over to a table and pulls out a bottle of water.

“You think we’re gonna drink from anything you give us?” Gil scoffs. “It’s probably spiked.”

John sighs, “Gil, you really need to be more trusting, like Malcolm. I don’t want to drug you; I need you all to be fully aware of the lesson I am about to teach. You can do that with or without the water, but it’s up to you.”

“Why are you giving us water anyway, aren’t you just gonna squash us like all your other victims?”

John looks surprised. “Oh, I’m not killing any of you, Lieutenant. Once Malcolm has learned his lesson today, you’ll be free to go. Once we’ve had a bit of a head start, of course.”

“Malcolm won’t do a thing you say, what will you do then?” Gil asks.

“Oh, he will. He’s ready, I know it. So, who’s first? Shall we start with the big one again?”

John visits each of his prisoners one at a time. JT and Dani both accept the offered water, they’ve been trapped longer than Gil has. He repositions a fresh piece of duct tape over their mouths before turning his attention to Gil.

“Now, normally I’d just duct tape your mouth shut but your goatee presents a bit of a problem getting the tape to stick. Don’t worry though, I’ve got an alternative.” John produces a dirty strip of cloth from his pocket with a flourish. “Now, hold still.”

Gil twists his head to the side trying to avoid the gag that John holds towards him, but ultimately John’s height and weight advantage is too much and the knotted strip of cloth ends up lodged firmly between his teeth. The cloth is tied tightly at the back of his head, and it digs uncomfortably into the soft tissue of his cheeks.

“There now, that’s much better.”

If looks could kill John would have been dead before he hit the floor right now. Gil can’t do anything but glare as his eyes follow John back into the centre of the room. He points his fingers in various places, as if checking off a to do list one last time. His finger waggles in remembrance and he turns on a white noise machine.

“And, we’re ready. Can’t have Malcolm knowing you’re here now, can we?”

Three pairs of eyebrows crease at the comment.

“So, to recap. You are all here to watch my Malcolm learn a lesson. If you try and signal to him that you’re here, I will take it out on him. And then I’ll take it out on you. So just sit tight and we’ll all be out of here in a New York Minute.”

John yanks on the heavy door, and exits the room, white noise thrumming gently in the background. This time it’s only minutes before it opens again and Malcolm shuffles slowly into the room. Gil has to take John’s word that it’s Malcolm, the person walking before him is at odds with the sharply dressed profiler Gil knows and loves. A set of oversized sweats hangs off his thin frame and his hair is limp and greasy. His stubble is untamed after weeks in captivity, and his bare feet pad timidly into the room. John leads him by a thick chain padlocked around his waist, his hands handcuffed in front of him and a thick black blindfold covers his eyes.

John leads him to a bolt in the floor and drops the heavy chain.

“Kneel.” John commands, keeping a steadying hand on Malcolm’s elbow as he sinks down onto the soft floor.

Gil watches in horror as Malcolm obeys silently, tucking his feet under his bottom and hunching over slightly as John secures the chain on to the floor, waiting for the next instruction. The whole time he’s been in the room he could have taken the blindfold off, but hasn’t. Gil looks for a sign that his hands will rip the blindfold off, or tension in his body as he prepares to surprise John while he’s so close, but his hands rest limply on his thighs. There’s no defiance there. A stone of dread settles in his stomach. While he didn’t know what to expect, he certainly didn’t expect this. 

Gil had assumed that John was just trying to get a rise out of him when he spoke about Malcolm earlier. A part of him wanted to believe with all his heart that after five weeks his beloved profiler was still fighting, still in the game. Malcolm’s behaviour in these first few minutes shook that belief ever so slightly. And he had no idea what was coming next. 

***********************  
Malcolm stirred when the rumbling of the engine stopped. The door slid open and John was there to guide him out of the car.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Let’s get you inside.”

He allows himself to be guided by John, across what feels like asphalt followed by cold concrete underneath his bare feet. They stopped for a moment while John opened a door, John’s hand quickly returning to help him to their destination. The floor changes to something soft and spongy, it should be comfortable to lie on at least.

John stops him and drops the chain.

“Kneel.” Is all he hears from John, and he falls gently to his knees with the help of a hand on his elbow. He waits while the heavy chain around his waist pulls slightly and hears the click of a padlock next to his leg. Rough fingers grab his wrists and unlock the handcuffs, when John releases his hands he places them on his legs, waiting for whatever is to come. 

“You won’t take that blindfold off, will you little Malcolm?” John asks.

“No.” he replies, surprising himself how quickly he agreed to the request. He cocks his head and can hear something in the room, just what he’s not quite sure. “What’s the noise?”

“It’s nothing, Malcolm, I just didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable with the quiet. Are you ready for today’s lesson?”

Malcolm sighs, “You know I won’t kill anyone, right? If that’s what you’re trying to convince me to do, I won’t do it.”

There’s a rustling of fabric and then John’s hand is holding his own, his gravelly voice soft in front of his face. “Today isn’t about our mission, today is about trust. I want you to be able to trust me. You’re already doing that by keeping the blindfold on, but I need to see more. Do you think you can do that?”

“I don’t know. I’m so tired, John. Just get it over with.” Malcolm takes a deep breath and braces for the blow he is pretty sure is on its way, whether John is praising him or not. He flinches when a hand touches his cheek, but it’s not a connection based in anger. A thumb strokes his cheek, and after weeks of being starved of human touch he subconsciously leans into it, sighing softly.

“Well that’s better than an outright no. The thing is, you need to trust me when we carry out our mission. I want to show you how I can look after you if you’re by my side.”

“And how will you do that?” Malcolm asks.

There’s a deep breath before John speaks again “So here’s the thing, Malcolm. You know I want you, and today I’m going to take you. And I want you to trust me that I won’t hurt you. Can you do that?”

There’s a series of thuds behind him and behind John, and he listens for a few more seconds to see if he can place the sound. When John doesn’t get an answer the hand on his cheek drops down to his neck, his thumb applying a little pressure just above the dip in his collarbone. The threat may be subtle, but it’s there.

“What do you say, little Malcolm. Can we do this together?” John asks.

Dual responses war on the tip of his tongue. If he refuses, John will most likely take him anyway and make it as painful as possible. He’s got no idea where he is, and he knows he can’t talk John around. But part of him wants the release that John is promising, all he has to do is tell a few white lies. Just little ones, and he can feel good for once. Malcolm takes a deep breath before answering quietly,

“Yes.”

With that agreement another thread that anchored Malcolm Bright to the world severed, and his grip on reality lessened ever so slightly. 

“Good, good.” Malcolm can hear the smile in John’s voice. The hand around his neck comes back up to his face and he is rewarded for his acceptance with a kiss. Malcolm opens his mouth and lets John in, not wanting to get John offside for refusing so soon after agreeing to help him. John’s intensity isn’t hard to miss, he’s been projecting his intentions for weeks and Malcolm can practically feel him vibrating with anticipation.

Maybe it won’t be as bad as he was imagining.

***************************

Gil watches Malcolm closely for the smallest sign of defiance, of fight against what John just suggested. The idea that John wanted to have sex with Malcolm, while he’s blindfolded and chained would have been enough for the Malcolm he knew to shout, scream and fight against whatever John wanted. Instead he watches his pseudo-son bow his head and give the ultimatum some genuine thought before uttering a single word.

_Yes._

His heart breaks for the man he knows, the man he hopes is still in there somewhere. Malcolm’s soft sighs and dropped shoulders don’t give Gil much hope, but he has to believe that there’s a reason for his submission.

John reaches forward to kiss Malcolm and it takes all of Gil’s strength not to vomit while the gag is still stuffed in his mouth. John pulls away and looks over his shoulder at Gil with a Cheshire cat grin, and the realisation finally hits him.

This is what John meant when he said they were going to watch Malcolm learn his lesson.

He was going to force Malcolm into sex, and his former team mates were going to have to watch.

And there is nothing any of them can do.

Gil’s chest starts heaving as he hyperventilates from the shock. There’s no hope of backup to cut this short, he’s pretty sure there hasn’t been enough time for anyone to put the clues together and find them. A glance over at JT and Dani’s faces mirror the certain horror his own face is displaying, and the force of his failures bears down on him just that little bit more.


	3. Allegretto/Andante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit content and the reason for the Archive Warning. Please take care of yourself while reading.

John’s heart pounds in his chest in excitement.

He had always hoped that Malcolm would agree to take part in his lesson, yet his training had taught him to always be prepared for any situation. Hearing Malcolm say those three little letters sent a thrum of energy through his body, and he could barely stop himself from launching onto Malcolm there and then. But today was all about trust, and John needs to show Malcolm that he can trust him with his life.

Progress on their mission depends on it.

He shucks off his boots quickly and loosens his pants so they can come off too, the denim would be too restricting otherwise. He had prepared the lube and towels earlier, all that was left was to prepare Malcolm who was waiting pliantly for the lesson to start. John kneels towards Malcolm and guides him onto his back, making him as comfortable as possible.

“I’m sorry about the chain, maybe after this we can take it off for good, hey?”

“Please. It hurts so much.” It’s a thrill to hear Malcolm behave so well.

“We’re all set, my sweet Malcolm. We just need these pants off, okay?”

Malcolm gives a small nod in affirmation, “O-Okay.” he whispers through quick and shallow breaths. John’s hands slide up under the loose jumper and brush the chain around Malcolm’s waist. Minding the bruises that lay beneath the chain’s path he slides his fingers under the waistband of the sweat pants and pulls them down. Even in the dim light of the room Malcolm’s pale skin stands out against the dark floor. Bruises dot his stomach and thighs, yet he is still so beautiful in John’s eyes. John climbs above Malcolm and runs a hand from bruise to bruise, ignoring the slight jump Malcolm makes as John’s hand touches his skin for the first time.

“So beautiful Malcolm.”

Not knowing where to put his hands Malcolm holds them awkwardly above his stomach, John guides them around to the small of his back so Malcolm is holding him. That’s what they do in the movies. Their legs are brushing together and Malcolm’s cock is already starting to fill out from the small amount of friction they’ve already created together. John hears Malcolm utter quietly, “God, no.” as he rolls his hips to the side to try and keep some distance between himself and John. 

John slaps Malcolm viciously and growls “You don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, remember? He _wants_ us to do this, and you will not sully his name. Phillipians 12:3- For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”

John’s not waiting any longer. Malcolm needs to understand that God’s plan wouldn’t include a situation where he actually gets a say in what happens. It is John that receives the word of God and interprets it for his disciple. And God is telling him to take his pleasure now. His own cock is rock hard and ready for this, the burning desire to fuck Malcolm has had him on edge for weeks. He’s already leaking precum; tiny silver lines trace up and down Malcolm’s leg as John ruts against him. He takes Malcolm’s cock in his hand and pumps it a few times, watching in awe as Malcolm’s stiff body relaxes, moaning as his cock fills out quickly.

Now more than ever, John is sure that this was the right time for this lesson. Malcolm needs it, and John is lucky enough to be able to provide for his disciple. 

“You want me, little Malcolm. I’m so happy to see that. You and I are going to do great things. We’ll be one, right now.”

Malcolm whimpers slightly but John lets it go, he’s focused now on Malcolm’s tight hole. Grabbing the lube he prepares two of his fingers and starts to circle Malcolm’s hole, he doesn’t want to hurt his disciple.

“Are you ready?”

Not waiting for a reply John pushes a finger in quickly, Malcolm’s tight muscles closing around his finger as he gasps in surprise.

“You’re gonna feel so good, little Malcolm..”

One finger becomes two, scissoring as he goes so Malcolm is ready for him as soon as possible. John puts his faith in his Lord and saviour that He will protect Malcolm from getting hurt, because He knows how important it is that Malcolm understand this lesson. John looks down at the face of his disciple and can’t read his expression. It’s not happiness, but not misery either. Somewhere in between maybe. 

He might not have prepared him long enough, but John can’t wait another second. “Here we go, Malcolm. Trust me.” John lifts his cock up to Malcolm’s hole and pushes in slowly until Malcolm takes his whole length. Malcolm cries out and arches his back as John thrusts inside him, and the electricity that was bouncing around his body starts to concentrate in his cock as Malcolm feels tight against it. The feeling is euphoric. This is God’s reward for him, for enduring the trials his grandfather set for him as a boy. God set Malcolm on a path towards John, so that he could shape him into the man he was supposed to be. And now that man lay prone before him, whining in pleasure and utterly dependent on John for the tiniest scrap of joy. _This_ is where Malcolm belongs; under him, _holding_ him, bound to him forever. 

***********************************************

Malcolm was still dazed from John’s punishment when he felt a cold, slippery finger slide into his hole. It had been forever and a day since anything had been shoved up there, and the burn was intense as tight muscles fought against the intrusion. His instinct was to gasp, before he remembered that he was doing this for himself as much as he was for John. The blindfold helped him forget who was on top of him, and Malcolm took a few deep breaths and focused on what he was feeling. At least John was preparing him for what was to come. 

The prep is short lived after what seems like a minute, and as a quivering breath blows gently onto his face, the pressure of John’s cock nudges against his hole and John delivers a final missive. 

“Here we go, Malcolm. Trust me.”

Malcolm trusts his mind to take him elsewhere while John fucks him. The initial thrust is hard and fast, and Malcolm’s tired body isn’t ready for it. Instinct kicks in and Malcolm arches his back upwards, using his arms locked around John as leverage to try and alleviate some of the pain as his body stretches for his captor. 

“You like that? I’ve got so much more for you, my boy.” 

Malcolm doesn’t respond, afraid that his words might betray his feelings again. John continues to thrust into Malcolm, the motions mechanical and without care. It all changes when John finds his sweet spot; he leans down to kiss his bare neck. His body tingles at the memory of being kissed there before, and he turns his head to the side to bare more of it to John’s mouth, moaning for more.

“You feel so good, the Lord rewards his soldiers. Unh, yes.” John grunts. 

The pace picks up and Malcolm’s body is well and truly aroused, weeks of little to no touch has sent his body into overdrive. Malcolm loses himself in the feeling of John hitting his prostate again and again, the pleasure shooting through his body and expelling in wordless shouts. One of John’s hands slides back down and grasps Malcolm’s cock again and it sends him over the edge. 

“Huh-huh-uh, I’m coming!” he moans just before white ribbons shoot out of his cock and onto John’s hand. The hand holding his cock quickly disappears as John redoubles his efforts, coming inside Malcolm a minute later. Both men are gasping for air in the aftermath. 

John rests on Malcolm for a moment, reciting quietly, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”

*****************************************

Malcolm leaves his body for the smallest moment after he comes. Limbs that were heavy with exhaustion seem a little lighter, and for the briefest of moments he forgets where he is and who is lying on top of him. He's brought back into the room by the soft mumblings of the man lying on top of him.

"God has provided for us today, little Malcolm. God will continue to provide for both of us, as soon as you accept our mission. You are beautiful, I can't believe you're mine." 

Malcolm’s stomach drops as he realises this won’t be a one time thing. He didn’t think beyond the moment, and now he has something new to endure with John. And he brought it on himself. The realisation strikes him dumb, though John doesn’t seem to mind the quiet. He rests for a moment longer before pushing off of Malcolm and redressing, the buckle on his belt clinking as he wrests his clothes back on. 

Suddenly feeling exposed, Malcolm curls his feet up to his ass, hoping that there’s nothing else in store for him today. Behind the blindfold his eyes close, tears quickly seeping into the thick fabric. He should have been stronger, should have tried to take it off. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it, he couldn't bring himself to go against John. He chokes out a sob of despair as another strand that makes up the thread of Malcolm Bright falls away, replaced by something darker and in John’s image.

"It’s okay, my Malcolm. We'll get you cleaned up, then we’ll finish your lesson." John coos.Gentle hands wipe a warm washcloth over his groin and legs and redress him, Malcolm doesn't react or respond. The clothes feel different, more suited to his slight frame. It seems his performance has earned him a reward. 

"Alright, Malcolm. The final part of your lesson is here. I need to hear that you trust me." 

"I trust you." He replies,without hesitation. He doesn't know if he completely believes it, but he's too tired to fight. 

"Hallelujah. I think you've earned a reward, what do you say?"

Malcolm swallows, wondering what would possibly be considered a reward in John’s eyes. 

"Sure. Can you take this chain off?" 

John chuckles, "One thing at a time, my disciple. How about the blindfold comes off first, hey? You can take it off now."

Malcolm takes a deep breath and lifts his hands to his face, slowly sliding the fabric up over his head. The room is dimly lit by a single light bulb, and the foam he's sitting on seems to extend up the walls. He blinks a few times to refocus his eyes, and the outline of John becomes clearer. 

"There’s my blessed disciple. Now, the last thing we need to do is for you to sever all ties with your family, only then will you be free to help me with our mission." 

Adrenaline spikes in Malcolm’s veins as his mind plays out a thousand scenarios, all of them horrific. Then it crashes as he realises that if John wanted to hurt them already, he would have. And he couldn't save them. He looks up at John with resignation and asks, "What did you do to them? Is my mom still alive?"

John’s chuckle morphs into an outright laugh. "No, not that family, your other one. They needed to see how devoted you are to me, to our mission. I think you showed them today."

"What do you mean?" 

It's at this point that John steps to the side, and his now adjusted eyes can see Gil, chained and gagged against the wall behind him. His face is contorted into one of agony, tear tracks shining on his face. A crushing weight sits on his chest as he realises that Gil was watching when he agreed to let John have his way with him. He saw him enjoying himself at the hands of his captor. Seen what John has reduced him to. 

"No." Whispers Malcolm. 

Then a thud behind him draws his attention, and he sees similar expressions on Dani and JT, bound in the same way. 

John gestures around the room at his captives. "They couldn’t even be bothered to find you, Malcolm. I’m the only person who will look after you. And now that they've seen how devoted you are to me, they won't bother to look for us when we leave." 

John’s right. They probably despise him after what they’ve just seen.

Gil starts to call out from behind his gag, but a swift kick arrests the sound. Malcolm doesn't hear Gil's protests, he's drawn into himself as the last remaining threads of his former life snap all at once. After weeks of isolation and abuse Malcolm had nothing left to give. He brings his knees up to his chest and drops his head, his body shaking with sobbing. He realises now that even if he could escape from John, his friends would never look at him the same, never trust him again. He could never go back. 

The weight on his chest builds and builds until his bursts forth in a guttural scream, taking with it the last vestiges of Malcolm Bright with it. He can’t look at anyone, most of all Gil, whose tear stained face is etched behind his eyelids, and that’s bad enough. His knees are the safest things to look at for now. 

John kneels down next to Malcolm and pulls him into a hug, gently shushing and whispering sweet nothings against his cheek to try and calm him down. 

“Shh…... it’s okay, I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you Malcolm. You’ll be safe with me.” 

Maybe John is right. Maybe things _will_ be better with him. But he has to forget who he was. The pain is too much. So he finds a switch, deep down inside and flips it. The sobbing that wracks his body slowly recedes, his breathing returns to normal and Malcolm feels strong enough to peek above his knees. Lieutenant Arroyo is still there, but this time when he sees the man in pieces he feels nothing. 

Malcolm Bright is no more.

John pulls away from Malcolm to observe what he’s staring at. Following his line of sight towards the Lieutenant and then back to gauge Malcolm’s reaction, a broad smile breaks across his face. He is John’s now. 

"Are you my disciple, Malcolm?" John asks.

Malcolm stares vacantly as he replies, "Yes." 

"Are you ready to start our mission?" 

"Yes."

"Okay then. You have broken the links that tethered you to your old life, and accepted your new one. I'm so proud of you today, my disciple. Let's get that chain off you, you don’t need it anymore." 

Malcolm the Disciple sighs, and waits for his next instruction. 

It's all he has.


	4. Tierce de Picardie

Gil wasn’t usually a praying man, but by God he was praying now. 

He watched John start to undress Malcolm, curious to see whether John had treated him well during their time together. The protruding bones and bruises that dotted Malcolm’s torso and legs couldn’t paint a picture of care that Gil had hoped for. Then when John started rutting against Malcolm and hitting him when he disobeyed Gil decided he couldn’t watch Bright be ripped apart by a monster. 

All that was left was to endure the sounds of the two men fucking. It started out with two clear attitudes, one willing participant, the other not. The bastard was drooling over Malcolm and it turned Gil’s stomach. Then there was a shift in Malcolm’s tone, a moan that one could only describe as  _ pleasure _ , and Gil opened his eyes to see what had changed. 

What he saw made him wish he hadn’t. John was kissing Malcolm’s neck, Malcolm had extended it fully to John and had wrapped his leg around John’s own. His body was no longer signalling that he was a forced participant, and it made Gil’s stomach turn again. 

Gil kept his eyes closed after that. He tried to focus on the white noise John had pulsing through the room, less so on what John was saying and the grunting coming from underneath him. The noises reach an eventual climax and after a minute or so of silence Gil opens his eyes. John has climbed off Malcolm to grab supplies of some sort, and Gil watches with a broken heart as Malcolm curls into himself half naked and sobs lightly.

It hits him now the ways that he has failed Bright today. He wasn’t good enough at his job to identify Watkins as the Junkyard Killer. Wasn’t good enough to stop him getting kidnapped. Wasn’t good enough to track them down in the weeks after he had been taken. And now, wasn’t good enough to stop him being raped by a killer. Tears spill over from his closed eyes, dripping onto the foam floor with a gentle plop. 

Malcolm would never be the same after this, that much Gil knew. He hopes that John keeps the blindfold on (no, that Malcolm keeps the blindfold on, John’s not forcing him anymore), then he would never find out about the “class” that John orchestrated. Gil is lost in his own thoughts until a word brings him back to the present with a sickening crash. 

_ "How about the blindfold comes off first, hey? You can take it off now." _

Oh, God. He was going to find out. Gil can’t let that happen. His eyes snap open and he pulls in vain at the chains on his wrists, but they don’t budge, he is helpless as Malcolm’s two trembling hands reach up to his face and slide the material off his eyes. 

John’s frame stands between the two friends, but he eventually stands aside and Malcolm’s eyes meet Gil’s for the first time. Gil sees something in him break. Then John has the nerve to claim they didn’t look for him, and he knows he needs to show Malcolm some form of protest, that it’s not true. He calls out as best as he can behind the dirty gag, but John kicks him to get him to stop. While Gil curls in on himself and concentrates on his breathing, Malcolm lets out the most animalistic cry of despair he’s ever heard. Once it subsides Gil chances a look up, to see John holding Malcolm, like one would a lover, and Malcolm staring blankly at him. There’s no trace of the profiler left. 

Malcolm’s admission that he is John’s is robotic and mechanical, and there’s no glimmer of his complicated mind whirring in the background. Just compliance. Gil doesn’t know how to reach him from here, but he supposes that is the point of all this. If he gets out of here he will find both of them and will make sure John  _ pays _ for this. For the destruction of one of the most precious people in his life. 

Gil can only stare blankly as the heavy chain around Malcolm’s waist is removed by John, yet Malcolm is unmoving, eyes unblinking and vacant. 

“Well done, Malcolm! You’ve done so well today. We’ll be leaving in a minute, I just need to talk to your classmates for a minute, okay?” 

Nothing. 

John continues, “Thank you so much for your attendance today. I’ll leave you the keys, you can let yourselves out. Don’t look for us, you just heard what Malcolm said. We now share the same mission, and if I even get a whiff that you’re on our tail I  _ will _ take it out on him. Mind you, if you do your jobs as well as you did trying to find him these last few weeks I have a feeling we’re gonna be just fine.” 

Gil’s had enough. The overwhelming feeling of failure and frustration erupts from his chest and out of his mouth, but the gag turns what would have been a ferocious scream into a muted grunt. One more humiliation for Gil to endure at the hands of this madman. John crouches in front of Gil one last time with a wicked grin.

“I really couldn’t have done this without you. Remember Malcolm as you see him now, pure and ready to be shaped in my image. Sweet dreams, Lieutenant.” 

John throws a swift uppercut that has Gil seeing stars before the darkness takes him completely. 

********************************

John surveys the scene around him with complete satisfaction. His disciple has accepted his mission divined from God, and is ready to be shaped into the man he needs to become. Malcolm’s friends have seen his true nature, and John is sure they won’t look for him when they leave. And the all important Gil Arroyo knew just how insignificant he was to Malcolm’s life now. He looks down at the unconscious form of the Lieutenant and the thought crosses his mind that it wouldn’t take all that much to finish the job, until he remembers that living with his failures is a far worse fate than ending his life today. 

He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the chains around his wrist, carelessly throwing the keyring on to the floor. John turns to the other two cops and jerks a thumb back in Gil’s direction, declaring

“Your boss can let you out when he comes to. Thanks again for your company today.”

John turns his attention to his disciple, who is still kneeling passively on the floor. Malcolm hasn’t moved a muscle since he accepted his place in the world next to John, and a shock of energy courses through his body at the excitement in knowing that the real learning was only about to begin. Crouching down to the floor, he takes an arm in his hand and pulls Malcolm up into a standing position. 

“Up you get, my Malcolm. Time to go.” 

There’s no reaction to his words, and of course John decides to see how far he can push it. Glancing over at the two conscious captives he grins wickedly before possessively kissing Malcolm in front of them. He meets no resistance from his disciple, he stands there and takes what he is given from his master. He pulls away with a satisfied hum.

“Well done, my disciple. Let’s go.” 

John takes Malcolm’s hand and leads him towards the door. Small gentle steps follow him as they leave the classroom together, united in a mission designed by God. 

Neither man looks back. 

********************* 

Gil comes to slowly, and ignores the pounding in his head to glance over at the spot where Malcolm had been chained. There’s nothing there. On instinct he lifts his arm to his head to try and dull some of the pain throbbing on the side of his temple, and to his surprise his hand meets his face. Gil is no longer chained to the wall, and a ring of silver keys lays on the floor beside him. 

John hadn’t been lying, he really hadn’t wanted to kill his team, today. 

Gil gradually lifts himself onto his elbows, steadying for a second before risking any further movement. When the world doesn’t completely tilt away from him, he gets onto his knees, grabs the keys and crawls towards JT who happens to be closest. 

“I’ll get you out of here, hang on.” Gil assures JT, as he fumbles with the keys trying to find the one that will set him free. He gets it right on the third try, and as soon as JT has a hand free, he rips the tape off his mouth and gulps in a huge breath of air. Always a man of few words, JT doesn’t talk straight away. Gil frees Dani shortly afterwards, but she doesn’t make a move to speak either. The trio sits motionless, three NYPD cops stunned into silence by the act they had just witnessed. 

The complete destruction of their friend. 

Gil breaks the silence first. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I failed all of you today. I failed Bright, I failed Jessica, I failed Tally, I failed-”

“Hey, Gil, we all failed today. This isn’t all on you.” JT cuts in. 

“What happened when he knocked me out?” 

Dani and JT share a look, Dani shaking her head slightly. 

“I need to know guys. What happened?” 

JT heaves a sigh before continuing. “The dude was gone. He just followed what John said. He even kissed him in front of us to prove his point, and Bright just stood there. So still, it was awful. John led him by the hand and he just followed.”

“When did they leave? How much of a head start do they have?” Gil asks. 

“If I had to guess I’d say about an hour.” Dani responds. “You took a pretty good hit, Gil.” 

Gil pulls himself to his feet. “We’ve got a chance to find them, then! We can pull traffic cameras, track the car, something!” 

JT stands and props up a swaying Gil. “Whoa, whoa boss. Let’s just figure out where we are first. We’re no good to Bright if you’re working with a concussion.” 

“But we  _ have _ to JT! This is the closest we’ve been in weeks! We have to get him back!” Gil stumbles and falls into JT. Once he connects with his solid detective a wave of sobs escape his body. This could possibly have been the last time they see Bright alive, and it’s an image he will never forget. 

Those vacant eyes will haunt his dreams. 

**********************

5 months later- Boise, Idaho. 

_ “Breaching the door in 3-2-1”  _ **CRASH**

**_“_ ** _ POLICE! ON THE GROUND! NOW! ON THE GROUND! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!”  _

_ “STOP! DON’T MOVE!”  _ **BANG! BANG!**

“ _ Shots fired, we have a suspect apprehended with two bean bag rounds to the chest. Second suspect is unresponsive.  _ _ Sir, get on the ground. Sir. Sir. Uh, you might need to call a bus.”  _

Gil is waiting nervously outside the scrap yard listening to the chatter on the radio. A story had run on America’s Most Wanted about the Junkyard Killer three days ago, and a resident had called the tip line with intel on a new scrapyard owner in the idyllic town. There hadn’t been a mention of a companion, but Gil was sure that John would have kept Bright alive. Gil had seen it in the man’s eyes, he coveted Bright too much to let him go. 

He gets the okay from the scene coordinator to head into the yard, working his way through piles of fridges, trolleys, cars, and anything else you could think of that was metal. He walks against the traffic of tactical officers, locating the living quarters at the back of the property. Stopping just short of the doorway Gil rests against the wall and takes a deep breath. 

For the last five months, one night has lurked in every waking moment. He remembers every second he spent in that room, and inside this shack he could be faced with a new set of memories to haunt him. Remind him of his failures. 

Gil hopes he can say something to bring his friend, no, to his  _ family _ back to him. 

There’s no more putting it off. Gil squares his shoulders and enters the shack. To the left is John Watkins, lying on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind him, two strong knees pressed into his back. 

“Hello Lieutenant. Can’t say I’m pleased to see you.” John grins. 

“Shut up, Watkins. You don’t get to talk.” Gil spits. 

“No Lieutenant, that was you, remember?” 

“Cut it out!” yells one of the officers on his back, pushing his knee in a little further for effect. 

John is still smiling as Gil turns away. His eyes continue to sweep the room, resting on a huddled shape in a blue coverall on the right side of the room. The hair is a little longer and darker from the grease than he’s used to seeing, but it’s definitely him. It was Bright. 

The tactical team has him sitting against a wall, hands cuffed in front of him. He stares vacantly ahead, lips moving ever so slightly. Gil hasn’t seen Bright look at a single person in the shack so far, and didn’t react to Gil entering the room. 

That is……….not good. 

Gil walks up to the officer closest to Malcolm, hoping to get more intel. He nods in Malcolm’s direction as he asks,

“Has he been like this the whole time?” 

The man shrugs. “Yeah, the kid didn’t move a muscle when we came in, let us move him around like a doll while we put the handcuffs on. He just keeps mumbling the same thing over and over again. The kid’s a few cents short of a dollar.”

“You don’t know what he’s been through. Can I speak with him?” 

The officer looks again at Gil, surprised. “Wait, you know the kid?” 

Gil nods. “I do. I mean, I did. He’s family.” 

“I think you’ll be fine. Ambos will be here in a few to get him checked out. Find out how many people he killed, I guess.” The officer stands to the side to let Gil pass. He crouches in front of Bright to get in front of his sight line but he just stares through Gil, mumbling away. Gil drops an ear towards Bright’s face to try and catch what he is saying. It’s one phrase, over and over. 

_ “Obey John’s command, he says, because I took an oath before God. Obey John’s command, he says, because I took an oath before God….”  _

Gil clicks his fingers and calls out a couple of times “Malcolm. Malcolm.” 

Nothing. Is his profiler still in there? 

Gil tries again. 

“They’ve got John, he can’t hurt you anymore. Malcolm, it’s me.” 

At the mention of John’s name, Bright starts to hit his head against the wall. 

_ “I won’t do it, I won’t do it, I won’t do it.”  _

“Whoa, kid stop!” Malcolm is getting more and more agitated with every passing moment, and his actions are starting to attract the attention of the officers. Gil stands frozen in place for a moment, tears threatening to spill over at the sight of Malcolm so distraught because of what Watkins has done to him. Movement behind him suggests the officers are preparing to intervene, so Gil swallows down the despair and heartache sitting tightly in his stomach and does the only thing he can think of. He reaches to the back of Malcolm’s neck, squeezes it and says one simple word.

“Bright.” 

Just like that the banging stops. Malcolm’s eyes move around their sockets for the first time since Gil has seen him, like someone turned a switch on. He looks down at the floor, repeating his name as if he’s hearing it for the first time. 

“Bright…….Bright…….” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath before Malcolm’s head snaps up and his eyes connect with Gil’s. He’s seeing his mentor and friend this time. 

“Gil?!” 

Gil manages a small smile. “Hey there, city boy. I wondered if you would remember me. We haven’t forgotten you.” 

Malcolm gasps and pulls his head away from Gil’s touch, the vacant stare that has haunted Gil’s dreams is replaced by one of unadulterated horror. 

“You saw. You  _ saw. _ I can’t go back. Won’t go back.” 

Gil tries to reassure the broken man before him. “Malcolm, it’s okay. You can come back. We  _ want _ you to come back. Your mom and Ains want you home.” 

Malcolm shakes his head furiously, mumbling “You don’t know... I can’t tell you…. JT and Dani….. they  _ saw… _ ”

Gil manages to grasp Malcolm’s neck again to stop his manic movements. “Hey, hey, Bright. JT and Dani want you home as well. We never stopped looking for you. You’re safe.” 

Malcolm isn’t convinced, and glances over to the officers holding Watkins. He speaks in a quiet voice to Gil, pleading “John is here. He told me not to go with you, I have to stay here. I  _ have to obey _ .” 

John voice calls out from the far side of the room, taunting as he shouts “He’ll always be mine, Arroyo!” 

Gil turns towards Watkins and snarls “Can we get him out of here?” The officers haul Watkins to his feet and escort him outside, and as his intimidating frame leaves the shack Gil watches all the tension leave Malcolm’s body. His breathing slows and he closes his eyes, as if he is finally able to relax. Gil’s heart skips a beat, maybe this is the moment he can bring Bright back from the brink. Gil leans a little into their familiar embrace and speaks softly, so only Malcolm can hear. 

“Bright, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. John’s not here anymore, and you won’t have to see him again. I’ll make sure you won’t have to.” Gil was going to make heaven and earth move to keep that promise. “Now that John isn’t here, can I ask you if you’d like to come home?”

Malcolm sighs deeply, but doesn’t speak immediately. Gil lets Malcolm take his time before a small voice replies, “Will they let me see my family?” 

“Sure thing, city boy. You know that the local PD are going to need to talk to you about what happened here in Idaho, then we’ll have you on the first plane home.” 

There’s a shorter silence this time, and Malcolm looks at Gil and speaks a little louder, with a little more confidence. 

“I’d like to go home, Gil.” 

Overjoyed at a sentence so mundane it wouldn’t usually register as anything significant, Gil wraps his arms around Malcolm and squeezes him tightly. The shoulders inside his embrace bounce up and down as Malcolm starts to sob; the reality that the last five months of misery are over hits him full force. Gil holds him until the shaking subsides, his heart torn between feelings of guilt and loss over Malcolm being lost for so long, and the elation of having him here in his arms, right now. Today he decides to side with joy. 

There’s movement behind him as the scene coordinator interrupts their embrace with an announcement that the paramedics are here to assess Malcolm. In an instant the wide eyes and shallow breathing return, but Gil is right there to calm him down. He reaches down to Malcolm’s cuffed hands and clasps both of them with his own. 

“You’re not alone anymore, kid. I’ve got you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming on this little journey during the longest hiatus everrrrrr. Is it 2021 yet?

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to hang out with some awesome artists please join me on the [PSon Trash](https://discord.gg/p3K3twh) (18+) server on Discord!


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